


A Matter of Preference

by reina_randwulf



Series: Dragon Age Kink Meme [6]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Dorian is being unreasonable, Dorian is everyone's type, Humor, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 22:18:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5022673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reina_randwulf/pseuds/reina_randwulf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian knew he was attractive. He was used to having people fawning over him and praising his good looks. Combined with his intelligence and natural charm, he was practically a walking sex god. From a qunari to a dwarf, no one could resist him. No one. Inquisitor Trevelyan must be lying when he said Dorian wasn’t attractive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Matter of Preference

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for this [prompt](http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/15060.html?thread=58822868#t58822868). tldr version of the prompt is: _Dorian struggles to cope with the idea that the Inquisitor doesn't find him attractive. Like. At all._ I hope it's as funny as I think it is. Once again, it features my Inquisitor Aeros, although I don't use his first name in here. Enjoy!

Ever since Dorian was a child, he had already been told by a lot of people that he was very handsome. His grandmother liked to pat his cheek and told him that he was such a pretty, pretty little boy. His parents utilized his good look by training him to ‘stand there and look pretty’. Dorian was his parents’ trophy child, the one they could parade to charm their friends and rivals. They took him to meet their friend so he could charm them with an innocence smile. As he grew up, he attracted more attention. Girls started to look at him and fawned when he smiled at them. Boys looked at him with envy and sometimes with interest. When Dorian had become a full grown adult, he attracted more and more attention. People turned their heads when he walked passed them on the street. Random strangers sent him free drinks and tried to make a small talk at a tavern.

He was born attractive. It was his responsibility to maintain it, no matter how long it took. If it meant he had to delay the Inquisition troops from marching home from Hinterland, so be it.

“Hey, Sparkler! His Inquisitorialness orders you to leave your tent right now or we will leave without you.”

Dorian turned his head to the looming figure of Varric Tethras standing at the entrance of his tent. He stood there, blocking the sunlight from gracing the inside of this cramped tent. Dorian put down the mirror he was using to wax his mustache and glowered at Varric. Although he knew the blame was not on Varric, he couldn’t help but feel a bit irritated. Dorian had a specific morning routine which involved styling his hair and mustache and applying kohl around his eyes. He wouldn’t come out from his tent until he was sure he was presentable.

“Oh no, he wouldn’t dare!” Dorian was annoyed. His mustache still needed more time to reach its usual state of perfection. “Tell His Worship to wait or he would sort on one mage who could throw a giant fireball at the Venatori.”

“Using his own threat to threaten him back now?” Varric let out an amused chuckle.

“Don’t you know? Threatening each other is the way to say hello in Tevinter.”

“It’s not really so different from the Merchant Guild then.” Varric grinned. “Is that why you left? That’s why I left the business with the guild to my brother. You can’t really enjoy the taste of ale while worrying about your head.”

“With the poor excuse of ale they serve at Kirkwall, I can’t blame you if you want to have a little peace of mind while drinking that ale.”

“Hey, the ale may taste like shit but that’s the taste of home,” Varric said.

Dorian chuckled and continued his morning routine. He took the mirror again and began twirling his facial hair until he was satisfied with the result.

“Oh shit,” Varric mumbled softly but loud enough for Dorian to hear. “Better hurry up, Sparkler. The Inquisitor is on his way. Spoiler alert, he doesn’t look happy.”

The warning came too late naturally for the Inquisitor moved unnaturally fast for someone his size. It didn’t help the fact he barely made any sound when he moved. It didn’t take long until Inquisitor Trevelyan came inside the tent in his full armor of leather. His usual stoic face hid the rage within him so well, the only tell that indicated the Inquisitor’s bad mood was the sound of teeth grinding. It was a sound of an oncoming storm.

“Finished yet?” The Inquisitor’s deep voice was tinged with irritation.

“I will be if you didn’t barge in here uninvited,” Dorian said. He ignored the Inquisitor and continued to twirl his mustache.

“We’re ready to go an hour ago.”

“I need time to prepare all of this, you know?” Dorian argued.

“So wake up early, that’s what I do anyway,” Aeros argued back.

Dorian took a notice of Trevelyan’s neatly combed hair. No doubt he used hair oil to style it that way. A strong one too, given the fact his hair stayed in its impeccable state after a gruesome battle with Venatori mages. Dorian scoffed at him and decided to ignore him.

“Should I leave you two lovebirds alone? I don’t want to interrupt anything or witness anything that can’t be unseen,” Varric said out loud.

Both Trevelyan and Dorian turned their heads towards Varric with a matching horrified look on their face. Him and Trevelyan? If it was a jest then it wasn’t a funny one.

“Varric…” The way the Inquisitor said Varric’s name sounded dangerous. There was a threat lurking behind that single word.

“What? There is too much tension in this tent, someone might mistake it from a sexual one,” Varric said. What a brave dwarf. He faced Trevelyan’s annoyance with an easy grin plastered to his face. To assume someone of Trevelyan’s status to dangle with a Tevinter mage like him, one that he clearly disliked? What an absurd idea.

Much to Dorian’s disbelief, Trevelyan didn’t look pissed with Varric’s remark. A snort followed by a slight twitch on the corner of his lips suggested that he was amused. “What makes you think there’s anything sexual between us?”

“It’s Dorian! Of course there’s something sexual mixed in!” Varric explained. “Have you met him? He’s very attractive for a man. He is practically flirts with everyone! It’s a recipe for a healthy sexual tension.”

“I’m not easily swayed with flirting,” Trevelyan said. And it was true. Dorian tried to flirt with him once, it was just in his nature to flirt a bit. The man only regarded him with an amused snort before he stated that flirting wouldn’t win Dorian a better accommodation. Trevelyan was immune to his charm, for whatever reason. Considering he used to be a pious Chantry brother, Dorian could only assume Trevelyan was as straight as an arrow.

“And I’m still here!” Dorian protested. Rude! It was his tent and these men just came barging in and talked like he didn’t exist. Rude, impolite, uncivilized barbarians. Dorian started to think all Marchers were like this.

“I’m just trying to say that whatever it is going between you, maybe it’s a sexual one,” Varric continued, completely ignoring Dorian’s protest. Rude Marchers! “If it’s not then I apologize. There’s a reason why I’m shit at writing romance. Actually you can blame Isabella. She has poisoned me with all her friend-fiction.”

Dorian dreaded to know what this ‘friend-fiction’ was. “Ok enough of this nonsense,” Dorian voiced his protest louder. “There is no sexual tension between us. While I’m flattered you think I’m attractive, which is true, I don’t think our Inquisitor will find me up to his taste. He has no interest in bedding men after all.”

His remark earned a loud laughter from Varric. Dorian never felt so embarrassed while not knowing the reason. Trevelyan himself was raising an eyebrow at Varric. He looked as clueless as Dorian, which was good. Dorian hated being the only one left in mystery.

“Seriously? You think our holy herald doesn’t swing that way?” Varric asked after he stopped laughing.

“Wait, what?” Dorian was confused right now. He turned to Trevelyan and found the Inquisitor’s eyes widened as if he was surprised to hear that. “You do?” he asked.

“I…” Trevelyan was rendered speechless. A rare occasion! Dorian would laugh if he didn’t find the revelation so baffling. “It’s true.”

“You must have been kidding me!” Dorian exclaimed. He looked at Trevelyan once again. What did Dorian miss? There was no sign that said he liked men!

“Have you seen the way he looks at Cullen or Blackwall? He looks like he wants to undress him and does wicked things to them!” Varric continued.

Trevelyan fancied Cullen and Blackwall. He fancied men. The Herald of Andraste liked men. Sweet Andraste, he liked men! Dorian didn’t spend enough time with Trevelyan to know notice that, but still. “Cullen, I can understand. Blackwall?” Dorian asked.

The faint blush came to Trevelyan’s cheeks. He was blushing. Actually blushing. Maker, what a strange day. “Blackwall is an attractive man.”

“He smells like a horse! That doesn’t bother you?” Dorian asked again, appalled.

“From afar,” Trevelyan hastily added.

“Well, I must admit the whole lone wolf and silent has its charm,” Varric chimed in, “it works on women in general. I’ve never thought it works on men too.”

“And a magnificent beard,” Trevelyan added again. He merely raised an eyebrow when Dorian shot him a bewildered look.

“Blackwall’s beard is mostly unkempt and dirty! Everyone with eyes could see it is decorated with bread crumb and dried morsel! Maker only knows what he hides under that hideous thing on his face!” Dorian was bewildered, puzzled, dazed, confused, and a bit frustrated. “If there’s a facial hair that deserves to be admired, it’s mine.” Dorian patted his mustache. It was perfectly divided, perfectly twirled at the tip, it looked healthy, and it shone under the sunlight. Dorian was proud of it.

“You forgot Warden Strout’s,” Trevelyan said.

“How dare you compare my mustache with that _thing_!” Dorian protested. Strout’s mustache looked like a fennec’s tail was glued to his face! “Do you know how long it is to make my mustache like this?”

“One hour and counting,” Trevelyan told him.

“It takes time to reach this level of perfection!” Dorian argued.

“Your mustache looks strange,” Trevelyan commented oh so casually like he was talking about the weather.

Trevelyan’s comment managed to upset Dorian to the point where he took it as a personal insult. His fingers reached for the tip of his mustache and twirled it. He didn’t know Trevelyan could be so difficult like this. He was supposed to be this stoic, dull, serious man! Where this snarky irritating man came from?

“Ok, I feel like I’m in the middle of a married couple’s quarrel.” Varric interrupted their banter. For a moment, Dorian forgot about Varric’s presence entirely.

“Varric, do you think my mustache looks strange?” Dorian asked him. He needed to know that his mustache didn’t look strange. No one had told him his mustache looked strange. It wasn’t strange. Trevelyan was the strange one.

“And now I feel like I’m the kid caught between his parents’ fight.”

“Enough!” Trevelyan was finally using his Inquisitor’s voice. Both Dorian and Varric were stunned to silence and they both looked at their leader like students about to get scolded by their teacher. “Dorian, you will leave your tent in five minutes or I’ll have Blackwall drag you out.”

“But I haven’t finished yet! You know I can’t go out like this!” Dorian raised his protest once more, but he was met with a stern glare of green eyes.

“You have… an interesting face, Dorian. Don’t bother with all of that thing. No one’s going to pay too much attention on you anyway.”

“Did you just call me ugly?!” Dorian asked, his voice was several octaves higher.

“Not ugly, just…” The way Trevelyan left his words hanging only confirmed Dorian’s accusation.

“I am _ugly_?!” Dorian nearly shouted.

“Varric, let’s go. You still need to pack your things.” Trevelyan took another look at Dorian’s face before he continued, “The left kohl is longer than the right.”

Dorian watched the Inquisitor and Varric’s departure with a stunned confusion. What did just happen? First the Inquisitor insulted his mustache, then he called him ugly, and then finally he told him his kohl was uneven? A quick check on his mirror confirmed Trevelyan’s comment, damn it! Dorian redid his kohl while trying to forget everything Trevelyan said. Stupid Marcher and his stupid taste. Trust a barbarian to call a savage like Blackwall ‘attractive’. Stupid barbarian. His words meant nothing.

Dorian spent the rest of the day thinking about Trevelyan’s word.

* * *

Dorian spent the rest of the ride back to Skyhold glaring at Trevelyan and Blackwall. The Inquisitor and The Grey Warden, riding on the front line and leading the small Inquisition troops. He sneered whenever those two shared a quite laugh, especially when Trevelyan was casting that stupid little smile that was just a little tug on his lips, it shouldn’t be counted as a smile. Trevelyan seemed to enjoy Blackwall’s company despite the smell. Was it because Blackwall was actually a pleasant companion once you got used to the smell or was it because he fancied Blackwall? How could he fancy someone like Blackwall? The thought alone was appalling.

“Easy there, Sparkler. You might burn a hole on Hero’s back,” Varric, who was riding beside him, said with a contemplative tone. “And because you are a mage, I think you will literally burn a hole on Hero’s back anytime soon.”

Dorian turned his glare towards Varric. “You call Blackwall ‘Hero’?”

“He’s a Grey Warden and a Grey Warden is a hero,” Varric explained.

“You call him Hero and I am Sparkler? I demand a new nickname!”

“Alright…” Varric said. He rubbed his chin in a mocking gesture of thinking. “How about Oblivious? You failed to notice His Inquisitorialness likes men, sure it counts as Oblivious.”

Dorian cringed. Varric wouldn’t let him get on with that. “That man is very subtle,” Dorian argued.

“I thought someone who sails that boat can notice someone who also sail the same boat. Hawke once told me it’s like you have special sense to detect them like something tingles your nerve.”

“Usually I know someone is like me when they look at me. They all have the same look.” Dorian stopped when he realized one thing. “Wait, he never looks at me like that.”

“Come again?”

“He never looks at me the way those men do. That’s why I didn’t know he likes men.” Dorian scowled. “Does he not find me attractive at all?”

“He did call you ugly,” Varric pointed out. He sighed when Dorian turned his angered glare into an icy glare. “He doesn’t fancy you. End of story.”

“Why he doesn’t fancy me?” Dorian asked, more to himself rather than to the dwarf riding beside him. He was possibly the most attractive and fashionable man in Skyhold. He was smart, witty, charming, and handsome. The Inquisitor should find him desirable. Most men did.

“Sparkler…” Varric sighed. “I might be a lot of things but a mind reader? You do realize I’m a dwarf, don’t you? I don’t have any magical shit to do that.”

“Hush now, I’m thinking!” Dorian scolded Varric.

Varric shrug. “Whatever you say, Sparkler.”

Dorian fixed his eyes on the Inquisitor who was now chuckling over something Blackwall said to him. Savage barbarian! How come he found that hairy lummox attractive? Why did he think Dorian was ugly? Why did find Dorian’s mustache strange? Did the Inquisitor not find him attractive at all? These questions plagued him like a Blight. He needed to know. He had to know!

He would find the answer!

* * *

He couldn’t find the answer.

Dorian had spent his entire free time trying to solve the riddle of why Inquisitor Trevelyan didn’t find him attractive. He tried to gather all information he could muster about the man. Youngest child of Bann Trevelyan of Ostwick, former Chantry cleric, very good at lurking around then killing people without making any sound. A pious man and a devoted Andrastian. He was a very punctual man with strict routine. He woke up very early to train at the training ground then he wandered the whole Skyhold trying to find something to fix or someone to help before he headed to the War Room. He was 34 years old, which made him older than Dorian by four years. According to a very chatty servant, Trevelyan liked chocolate cake, chocolate mousse, chocolate cookies; basically every food with chocolate. Dorian wasn’t sure what to make of that last information.

Something hit Dorian’s cheek, something hard and round. The mysterious object bounced down into the bowl of stew on his lap with a loud gulping sound. Dorian looked at it and found a small pebble stone. A manic giggle heard from across the fireplace was none other than Sera’s. It was Dorian’s own fault. He shouldn’t lower his guard down near Sera, especially when they were out camping in the middle of a desert. If it wasn’t for the promise of killing more Venatoris, Dorian wouldn’t set a foot on the Western Approach. Trevelyan had gathered a small team to infiltrate Griffon Keep. When he said small, he meant really small. It was just him, Trevelyan, Sera, and Iron Bull. It was a very peculiar team for a stealth mission. Sera was loud, Dorian’s specialty was blowing up things especially corpses, and Iron Bull was Iron Bull. Surely the Venatori could see a towering qunari charging forward, couldn’t they? He was sure their dreadful fashion sense with bright color and hideous pointy hoods hadn’t completely turned them blind.

“I told you I can hit that little spot on his face,” Sera said proudly.

“Very impressive!” Iron Bull, who was sitting beside her, commented. “We could use an archer like you. Our archer isn’t… very archery.”

“Joining a band of mercenary? Pfft, sorry. No thanks.”

Iron Bull looked hurt when he heard that. “And why not? The pay is good, I tell you.”

“Nobles hire you, yeah? You work for those pompous fancy shites? Tell you what, I’m not going to work for them. Kind of defeat the purpose of what I’m doing,” Sera pointed out.

“Ah yes. That makes sense,” Iron Bull said.

“Besides, I’m good at poking around nobles. Watch!” Sera threw another pebble and it hit Dorian’s cheek again. She laughed despite being on the receiving end of Dorian’s glare.

“I’m not your personal source of amusement!” Dorian protested.

“’I’m not your personal source of amusement’,” Sera repeated Dorian’s words with a very fake Tevinter accent.

“It’s only a game,” Iron Bull said.

“If it’s a game then allow me to participate in it as well,” Dorian said. “When you throw rocks to my face, I set your toes on fire.”

The threat of immolating her toes was enough to silent Sera so Dorian was back to his contemplative thought. Where was he? Oh yes, chocolate. Oh no, he meant Inquisitor Trevelyan. Why The Inquisitor didn’t find him attractive? Judging by his attraction for Blackwall maybe he fancied older men. But he fancied Cullen and Cullen couldn’t be any older than Dorian. Was it the mustache? But he showed a great interest in facial hair so that couldn’t be the reason. His mole? No, it was called a beauty mark for some reason. His accent, maybe? Did he sounded too ‘evilly’ like Sera always claimed and it turned the Inquisitor off? It must be his accent.

“Hello, Boss! I thought the dessert has eaten you up!” Iron Bull announced Trevelyan’s arrival with a small grin.

Dorian vaguely recalled Trevelyan mentioned he wanted to scout the area when they made camp here. Dorian wasn’t exactly sure how long Trevelyan had gone. He was too busy picking up random information about the said man.

“What took you so long? Sera almost ate all the stew while you’re gone.” Bull asked while watching Trevelyan taking the last remaining stew from the pot.

“Hey! A woman needs to eat!” Sera argued.

“Aren’t you afraid of going fat?” Iron Bull asked. “Can the elves become fat? I haven’t seen a fat elf before.”

“I didn’t get into trouble if that’s what you’re asking.” Trevelyan proceeded to sit on the empty spot between Dorian and Iron Bull. “I found a hidden entrance to the keep.”

The conversation shifted to the strategy to infiltrate the Keep. Iron Bull and Trevelyan did all the talking while Sera offering crude commentary. Dorian himself was too busy looking at Trevelyan rather than paying any attention to what he was talking. Did he hate Dorian’s accent? He didn’t seem like the sort of man who hated people from their accent. But then again, Dorian didn’t know Trevelyan was capable to give witty comeback and could be annoying so maybe he hated people from their accent.

Trevelyan suddenly stopped talking to Bull and now he directed his calm green eyes on Dorian. “Dorian, why are you looking at me like that?” Trevelyan asked.

 _Kaffas_. He should try to be more subtle. But alas, he had been caught red-handed. Might as well be bold about it. “Do you hate my accent?”

Trevelyan’s eyes widened for only a brief moment. Dorian only knew it because he was still staring at those green eyes. “I don’t hate your accent,” he answered.

So, not the accent then. Dorian’s finger came to scratch his chin while his mind tried to conjure up other possible reason of why Lord Inquisitor Trevelyan found him unattractive. Was it his scent? Did he have a foul smell? He couldn’t find his favorite oil bath and aftershave, not in the middle of deserted frozen mountain top of course, so he used local oil bath and aftershave instead. Maybe that was the reason. Maybe the Fereldans smelled like wet dog because their hygiene product smelled like wet dog. Horror washed over him when the thought of him prancing through Southern Thedas smelling like wet dog.

“Do I smell like a Fereldan?” Dorian asked out of sheer panic.

Trevelyan was taken aback when he heard that. Not only Trevelyan but Iron Bull and Sera as well. “What do you mean with smell like a Fereldan?” Trevelyan asked back.

“Do I smell like wet dog?”

“No.” Those green eyes now looked utterly lost. Trevelyan still managed to answer despite his confusion.

“Are you really sure? I used Fereldan products, it’s only logical if I smell like one.”

Sera started snickering before she burst out laughing. Iron Bull followed her with his booming laughter that certainly would attract predators like phoenix or varghest. The only one who was not laughing was Trevelyan. He was looking at Dorian like Dorian had lost his mind.

“You mostly smell like sweat but beneath it there’s a faint fragrance of sandalwood,” Trevelyan said.

The laughter was gone. The whole party was stunned into silence. They all looked at Trevelyan with a  
what-a-creep look on their face, in which the Inquisitor replied back with a raised eyebrow.

Focus, Dorian! He started to get sidetracked. He still needed to know why Trevelyan thought he was less attractive than Blackwall. “So what is it then?” Dorian finally popped the question. He needed to know! “What part of me you don’t like? Surely there’s a reason why you don’t find me appealing.”

“Excuse me?” Trevelyan sounded puzzled.

“You said I’m ugly. I need to know why.”

Another round of laughter from Sera and Iron Bull. Dorian felt his cheeks growing warm, but he refused to let his embarrassment shown. He narrowed his eyes and gave them his best glare. It wasn’t effective.

“You really told him he’s ugly, Boss?” Iron Bull asked once he regained his breath.

“That’s not my exact word,” Trevelyan said.

“But you really meant it, didn’t you?” Dorian accused. “Tell me, Inquisitor. Why do you find me unattractive?”

“Oh, this is great!” Sera exclaimed with so much glee, Dorian didn’t need to look at her to picture her grinning.

Trevelyan took a very deep sigh. He closed his eyes, bowed his head a bit, a hand came to massage the furrow on his forehead. And after that, the sound of teeth grinding came. Dorian’s jaw suddenly ached from no apparent reason.

“Dorian, it’s hardly the time to discuss it,” Trevelyan said.

“But I want to know! I need to know!” Dorian almost sounded like he was begging, but, of course, he wasn’t. “Everyone finds me desirable. I’m a good looking man with charm and wit. I’ve once made a man questioned his sexuality by just looking at me. Why don’t you find me attractive as well?”

“You’re not ugly, Dorian,” Trevelyan admitted.

Not ugly. Glad to hear that. It still didn’t explain anything. “Why don’t you look at me like you want me? All men who prefer men look at me like I’m the living embodiment of sex. They all desire me! All men but you!”

Iron Bull snorted loudly. “Living embodiment of sex,” he mumbled while shaking his big horned head.

“You also look at me like you want to see me naked. Don’t try to deny it. I know.” Dorian didn’t pay any more attention to Iron Bull and turned back his attention on Trevelyan. “So, what is it? Tell me.”

Another sigh. This time, it was followed by slumped dejected shoulders instead of that dreaded teeth grinding sound. “You’re a good looking man, Dorian. It’s just you’re not my type. That’s all.”

Not his type. Dorian was not his type. That didn’t make any sense. “I’m not your type?” Dorian asked.

“Is that so hard to believe?” Trevelyan asked back.

“I’m everybody’s type!” Dorian pointed out.

“Not mine!” Sera quipped. “Too much cock and no tits. Euh.”

Once again, Dorian decided to ignore his companions’ comment, especially Sera’s. She was more inclined towards women after all.

“You’re not my type,” Trevelyan repeated.

Dorian frowned. The gall this man had! It couldn’t be true! He had admitted Dorian was attractive. What was the meaning of this! “You’re lying!” Dorian said.

Trevelyan frowned back at Dorian. “Why would I do that?”

That was an excellent question. Dorian should consider it before he made his accusation. But the words had been spoken, he had to say something to back up his accusation. Why would Trevelyan lie? People lied to cover something up. There was something Trevelyan was hiding. His insecurity perhaps? Compared to Dorian, Trevelyan was pale. Well, literally pale. Back to the topic, he must feel inferior standing next to Dorian’s gorgeous exotic self.

“You’re jealous, that’s why,” Dorian said. “Please pardon my boldness, but am I not more handsome and more charming than you, Inquisitor? You think you are a catch? Guess what, you’re not! You’re a dull looking man with stupid red hair and big nose!”

Trevelyan’s eyes were widened in surprise. He was so shocked, it rendered him speechless. The look Dorian received was almost comical, it made him wanted to laugh. It brought a satisfaction to see the great Lord Inquisitor like that.

“I think Inky is handsome,” Sera commented. “I never want to punch his face. Well maybe at first but I never want to punch his face again.”

Dorian failed to see how Trevelyan being good looking had anything to do with her not wanting to punch him in the face. Dorian had long given up trying to understand Sera.

“Well, I also think Boss is attractive,” Bull said. “Very attractive.” He was openly leering at Trevelyan. Did The Bull have no shame at all? Given the fact he didn’t cover his torso and flashed that massive breast of his, Dorian would say no, he didn’t have any shame. He wondered whether Iron Bull knew the word ‘shame’ exist.

“Thank you, Bull, Sera. I’m flattered,” Trevelyan said.

“Anytime, Boss.” Iron Bull said. He leaned forward a little and gave Trevelyan what must be a seductive smirk. It came more predatory than seductive. “Do you think you and I can-“

“No,” Trevelyan said with a firm rejection.

Iron Bull only shrugged. “Your loss then,” he said.

Dorian felt a headache was growing and he also felt physically exhausted. He had no idea this conversation could be very draining.

“Two people have stated that I am handsome and attractive. One was said by a woman who doesn’t even find men attractive in general. I think it’s enough to counterpoint your words against me,” Trevelyan said.

Dorian scowled. “You’re lying, I’m certain! No one has ever found me unattractive!”

“Again, I ask you to give me a good reason to explain why you think I’m lying,” Trevelyan insisted.

“I’ve caught the eyes of the man of your interest perhaps?” Dorian guessed. That was a good reason. It was a common problem back home between the women of noble houses. Some women attracted the attention of other women’s husband. It usually resolved with assassination.

Trevelyan raised an eyebrow. “Do you think Cullen or Blackwall want you?”

Cullen was straight and so was Blackwall. Thinking about Blackwall wanting him gave him goosebump. “The foreign dignitaries that come to visit then?”

“I am the Inquisitor and the Herald of Andraste. I command the Inquisition army. My word can shake the whole Thedas. If I want to sleep with one of them, I could. They all come to Skyhold to get my attention after all.”

When he put it that way, Dorian suddenly realized Trevelyan was actually a very shining an excellent catch. A powerful man with military and diplomatic backup. Not to mention a vast spy network. “All right, all right. You have made your point.”

“And you haven’t made any point,” Trevelyan said.

 _Kaffas_! He had to think about something. Dorian hated to lose this argument. There must be a reason why Trevelyan would lie! “I know! It must be because I am a mage! You Southern Chantry boy are all allergic to mages, aren’t you? Do I frighten you? Don’t want to lay with a mage? You don’t want an evil magister from Tevinter, do you?”

Trevelyan closed his eyes and massaged the frown lines that were forming on his forehead. “You do realize I choose to ally with the mages and not the templars?”

“It doesn’t prove anything. You are a practical man. Of course, you will choose mages over templars. We know more about Fade than templars,” Dorian argued.

“I have no problem with mages,” Trevelyan insisted. “If I have a problem, I would have all mages in Skyhold supervised by former templars in our ranks. I would have everyone locked inside the tower, especially you.”

“Me?” Dorian yelled. “Why me?”

“You said yourself, _evil magister from Tevinter_ ,” Trevelyan called out.

Using his words back against him now? Trevelyan was really a very frustrating man.

“Now do you have other things to say?” Trevelyan asked.

Dorian scowled. He was running out of things to say. He didn’t want to embarrass himself any further by throwing random accusations. He knew when a battle had come to an end.

“I still think you’re lying, Inquisitor.” Dorian got up from his seat. He jabbed his finger at Trevelyan. “I will make you admit that I’m attractive. Just wait for it.”

With that Dorian made his exit. He walked towards his tent, ignoring Trevelyan’s call and Bull’s laughter. He knew Trevelyan was lying. He had to be lying! Dorian was attractive, handsome, pretty, and exotic. No one should deny him. He would make Trevelyan admit he was attractive. This he swore on his family name.

He would make Trevelyan fell for him no matter what.

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously I still have more idea about this silly fic, but I’m afraid it will become too long and considering the rest of the idea doesn’t really fit the prompt so I end this fic here. So yeah, I might or might not write a 5+1 fic titled _How to Court an Inquisitor (and failing)_. If any of you guys is interested, let me know. Thanks for reading! As usual, comments, kudos, and critics are warmly welcomed!


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